Inspired by the life of Raj Begum, “Songs of Paradise” is a poetic tribute to Kashmir’s first female singer, exploring themes of love, loss, and the transcendent power of music.
“Songs of Paradise” is a film that hums like a dream—fragile, haunting, and steeped in longing. Directed by Danish Renzu, the movie draws inspiration from the life of Raj Begum, Kashmir’s first female singer on Radio Kashmir. It reimagines her journey through the character of Zeba, also known as Noor Begum, portrayed with piercing authenticity by Saba Azad, and later by Soni Razdan. Rather than a conventional biopic, this film serves as a luminous, poetic tribute—a fictionalized account that captures the emotional truth of a woman whose voice rose from a conservative and politically volatile valley to touch the heavens.
Noor’s singing transcends narrative; it becomes an element of nature itself. Her voice embodies the towering mountains, open skies, rushing streams, and lush valleys, encapsulating both peace and desire, longing and prayer.
The film’s visual artistry draws viewers in with stunning imagery: shikaras gliding on the shimmering Dal Lake, and three young women in festive attire singing at a friend’s wedding, their eyes sparkling like diamonds reflected on the water. We catch glimpses of Zeba’s modest one-room home, adorned with a flowerpot drawn on a brick wall—a small bloom of hope amidst hardship. In a dimly lit kitchenette, Zeba mischievously cooks a photograph of a “potential groom” in a pot of stew, adding a touch of whimsy to her otherwise challenging life.
Cinematographer Vincenzo Condorelli captures Kashmir as a living soul, showcasing snow-dusted Himalayas, saffron-scented air, and alleyways perfumed with kahwa and rogan josh. Each frame feels like a prayer, inviting viewers to immerse themselves in the beauty and complexity of the region.
The emotional core of the film lies in Zeba’s bond with her father, an uneducated tailor with a liberal heart. Their quiet, affectionate scenes together by his sewing machine are filled with unspoken understanding. He believes in Zeba’s innate talent even when others do not, and his quiet faith becomes her guiding light.
Her Ustadji, played by Shishir Sharma, is gentle yet discerning, recognizing the divinity in her voice. He encourages her to enter a local singing contest, which becomes one of the film’s most arresting sequences. Dressed in a simple pink and violet Kashmiri salwar kameez, with a biscuit-colored hijab perched on her head, Zeba appears like a schoolgirl—uncertain and seeking her teacher’s approval. As she begins to sing “Dil Tsooran Hai,” the song that first wins her recognition, the audience is drawn into her world.
Following her performance, Zeba is awarded a trophy and a contract to sing for Radio Kashmir, where she meets Mr. Kaul, played by Suhail Nathani. The skeptical producer doubts that a young Muslim woman can endure the pressures of public life, but her voice silences every hesitation and gives her wings. Panditji, portrayed by Renzu himself, is a composer overwhelmed by her gift, creating rich orchestral arrangements that amplify the purity of her tone.
Zeba’s journey leads her to perform live at Tagore Theatre, but her photograph in the local newspaper brings her family shame. She is rescued from this scandal by poet Azad, played by Zain Khan Durrani, who asks for her hand in marriage. Azad’s poetry merges with her music, and the scene by Dal Lake, where she sings a verse composed by her husband, becomes a poignant invocation of love and devotion.
The film’s musical magic is heightened by Sufi-inflected songs like “Karsa Myon,” alongside many Kashmiri folk songs beautifully sung by Zeba, with playback by Masrat Un Nissa. Each note is layered with longing and spiritual surrender, deepening the emotional resonance of the narrative.
On a personal note, redemption arrives quietly for Zeba when she returns home with a new sewing machine for her father—a gesture of love, dignity, and self-worth. Her mother, played by Sheeba Chaddha, acknowledges her mistakes, whispering, “I was wrong. You have only brought us respect.” This moment of reconciliation is tender, evoking the breath of spring.
However, “Songs of Paradise” does not shy away from conflict or pain. Zeba faces her community’s judgment and endures the heartbreak of losing her entire archive of recordings in a fire. As she stands frozen before the flames, her face illuminated by loss, Saba Azad’s cries pierce the skies, leaving her silent and unable—or unwilling—to sing again.
Saba Azad’s performance is the heartbeat of this film. She embodies Zeba with an open, luminous face, an authentic Kashmiri accent, and questioning eyes that hold both courage and generosity. Whether demanding equal pay, sharing her food with colleagues, or seeking higher verse to lend her voice meaning, Azad delivers each moment with quiet ferocity. When she sings, the valley itself seems to hold its breath.
Unaware of her growing influence, Zeba inspires a generation of Kashmiri girls to sing. They come to her door, their voices opening with hope, asking to sing her songs. In that moment, her voice echoing against the mountains, Noor’s voice is not hers alone; it belongs to every woman who has ever sung her heart out.
Produced by Ritesh Sidhwani, Farhan Akhtar, Shafat Qazi, and Danish Renzu, “Songs of Paradise” is currently streaming on Amazon Prime.
Source: Original article